


Bane of the Doctor - Part 4: The Ally Within

by RodimusDoctor



Series: Bane of the Doctor [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodimusDoctor/pseuds/RodimusDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, suffering the mental and emotional trauma of Dr. Crane's fear gas, conjures up his sixth persona to help him cope. Using the image of his past self as a mental devil's advocate, the Doctor pieces together what facts he can about his confinement. Meanwhile, Dr. Crane intrudes upon Dirge Manson to renegotiate the terms of their agreement, and Dirge begins to suspect the Scarecrow will be more of a problem than he'd realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bane of the Doctor - Part 4: The Ally Within

The Doctor lay on the floor, staring at the dark inside of his blood and spittle-soiled mask, trying not to cry. It had been happening more and more often these days. Not that the notion of days had any meaning for him. He was a Time Lord stripped of the concept of time.

The fear gas was powerful, and seemed to be getting more and more potent. An observation he’d made long after the effects had worn off. When he could think again. Because only then could he understand the visions he’d seen weren’t real.

They had felt so real. And even though he knew what it was, what to expect, once the gas began its work he was helpless before its power. No amount of mental preparation could shield him.

And then there were the beatings. They hadn’t become any more or less frequent. They were, however, less easy to predict. Or avoid. If anything, the reasons for the beatings had become more arbitrary, less grounded in right and wrong. The Doctor hadn’t failed to address his captor as Please Sir, and he’d tried to comply with his demands. Really he had! But how could he obey when Please Sir had ordered him to run to the nearest wall? How could he, when he couldn’t see where the walls were? Or when Please Sir told him to stop thinking of escape, and he’d really tried! But somehow, Please Sir had known.

Not possible, a tiny bit of his mind said. He can’t read minds. You’d have noticed by now.

“Pick up the tray,” Please Sir had demanded, “and bring it to the light.”

What tray? What light? How could he possibly bring the tray to the light when he couldn’t find the tray (not that he hadn’t searched) and no light could get through his mask? It was impossible!

It wasn’t fair.

He’s breaking you, that tiny bit of him said.

And now he lay there, bleeding and bruised and so very, very hungry. It had been ages since he’d felt comfortably full. Whatever it was they fed him, when they put him out and healed him, it was only enough to keep him alive.

Perhaps there was food on the tray...

There is no tray!

But he said there was a tray...

It doesn’t exist! He made it up!

No, he wouldn’t do that. Not if he wanted it moved to the light...

The Doctor lay there, hurting. He had a couple of fractures, for sure. And a few teeth were missing. Why hadn’t Please Sir tended to his injuries? The Doctor expected to fall asleep at any moment, then awaken healed and fed some time later. What was Please Sir waiting for?

He’s leaving you in pain, the small bit of him said, just to let you know he can. You’ve grown used to the schedule of beatings, healings and gassings. He’s mixing things up, now. And I’ll just bet he’s going to hit you with the gas again before he patches you up.

He wouldn’t do that, the rest of him said.

Oh yes he would, the little bit replied with a voice that did not invite argument.

The Doctor didn’t want to believe it, but he could not argue with the evidence his mind had put forth.

Look, he told it, if I have to talk to myself in my own head, at least give yourself a proper face.

In his head, an image began to form of a man in a beige jacket striped pants and blonde hair. Of course, the Doctor thought. My fifth incarnation is just the face I need to see to get me through this.

“Tough,” the image said as it solidified. “You’re getting me.”

It was indeed the outfit he’d worn during his fifth incarnation, right down to the celery. However, the curly-haired, noble browed face that stared down at him was definitely that of his sixth. He spread his arms wide and beige jacket erupted into a multi-coloured nightmare, and the celery became a cat pin.

“Aw, not you!” the Doctor moaned as he beheld his sixth incarnation. “I wanted a friendly face, not the grumpy clown with the fashion sense of...”

“No, no, we’re not getting into that now,” the Sixth Doctor said. “Too much is at stake to waste time with idle banter. You’re in trouble, and a friendly, big-brotherly type isn’t going to get you out of it.”

“And you think you can?” the Doctor said.

“No, only you can do that,” the Sixth Doctor told him. “What I am going to do is give you the kick in the backside you so clearly need.

“What are you doing right now, mm? Lying around and having a bit of a cry? Is this what I have to look forward to? Are you the Doctor, or are you a useless lump of soppiness?”

“Oh, spare me the drill sergeant bit!” the Doctor snapped. “I’ve got fractures in my arms and legs and more than a few ribs. Not to mention my nose...”

“Oh diddums! Did we get ourselves an ouchie?”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, you should talk!” the Sixth Doctor said. “It’s all anyone can do to get you to pause for breath.”

“Yeah, I got that from you,” the Doctor shot back.

“And that’s not all,” his younger self told him. “Unless you haven’t been exercising it lately, you’ve still got a brain. Time,” he advanced a step and loomed over his future persona, “to start using it.”

“I have been using it,” the Doctor muttered, but he knew what his sixth incarnation was getting at.

“Yes, the message you sent out. Clever bit of work, that,” the Sixth Doctor said, and he squatted down beside him. “Hiding the transmission origin behind a code only decipherable using The Time Machine as a cipher. Very clever indeed! Let us try and build on that success, shall we? Starting with what you know. How big is this place?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you can guess.”

“It’s a very large space,” the Doctor thought aloud, “but it has to be finite.”

“Obviously,” said his sixth self.

“I mean for the fear gas to be effective!” the Doctor said. “Too big and the gas would dissipate.”

“The ones who’ve been beating you,” the Sixth Doctor said, “they could be spraying it at close range.”

“Yes, they could,” the Doctor conceded.

“A worthy hypothesis, none the less,” said his younger self, and he stood and began pacing. “Let’s talk about the gas itself. What did you notice the first time you inhaled it?”

“I didn’t notice anything!” the Doctor eased himself up into a sitting position. “I woke up and was already in the nightmare.”

“And what does that tell you?”

“That it’s pretty bloody effective!” the Doctor replied. “I mean, I eventually worked out the visions weren’t real, but before that...”

“Yes?”

“The gas went to work on me right away,” the Doctor said, “like it had been designed specifically for my physiology.”

“Go on.”

“How did Please Sir manage that? He’d need to study Time Lord anatomy to make the gas effective.”

“Go on.”

“I’m the last of the Time Lords,” the Doctor said. “Where did he get the anatomical information?”

“That,” the Sixth Doctor squatted before him again and tweaked his nose, “is the right question.”

 

I look down at him and frown. He should be in too much pain to move, desperately waiting for me to put him under once more. He must be very hungry, as well. I planned it so. A couple of hours of discomfort would play havoc with his expectations.

And yet, he sits upright. Alert. He has managed to find some hidden mental resource, given himself a bit of hope. He might even be plotting.

I have not broken him yet. Good for him. Bad for me. But then, if breaking the Doctor was easy, everyone would be doing it. And I’d have found it boring. Instead he is a worthy challenge, one which will eventually bear the sweetest fruit.

“Resilient, isn’t he?”

I’m unable to hide the surprise on my face as I spin around and see Dr. Crane standing right behind me. He should not have been able to get out of his lab, let alone gain entry to my personal observation room. And he knows it; he looks deeply amused, and more than a little smug.

“I shall modify the gas accordingly,” he continues, and if he thinks I don’t see the spray mechanism attached to his arm, he is gravely mistaken. “You will have your...”

“What,” I demand, “are you doing here?” I want to know how he got into this room, but he both wants and expects me to do so. I shall not give him that satisfaction.

“I was feeling cooped up,” he tells me. “And, I wanted to discuss the terms of my compensation once more.”

Oh. So that’s where this is going. First a demonstration of his resourcefulness, then a reminded of his value, all supposed to make me open to a renegotiation of his contract. I suppose this was inevitable. And if more money is all he wants...

“I have already offered you incalculable wealth,” I remind him. “What more can...”

“I want to stay,” he says.

I blink. Again he surprises me.

“I wish to remain here, in this future,” he says. “In my time I am a wanted criminal, my genius confused with insanity. Here, I am free to pursue my goals without interference from the police. And that incalculable wealth will give me all the resources I need.”

This is unexpected. I have no intention of keeping Crane here, or of letting him lose in this timezone. History records that the Scarecrow died in a final conflict with that era’s Batman... the original Batman. It is a date with history I shall ensure Dr. Crane keeps.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I will take you to the planet of your choice,” I tell him, “and see to it you have all you require. I imagine you already have a destination in mind.”

“I do,” Dr. Crane says. “Call me nostalgic, but I think I’ll find a home on New Earth, in the city of Neo Gotham.”

“I’ll see to it,” I say, “just as soon as the Doctor is broken and conditioned.”

We stare at each other. He no doubt suspects I’m lying, but will not say so in case the confrontation goes badly for him. I suspect he will try and escape before I am finished with him, to ensure he stays in this timezone. I must admit I am tempted to set him loose in Neo Gotham, see how he fares against this era’s Batman...

But no. Doctor Crane will go back, when he is of no further use to me.

“I suppose I’d best be getting back to my lab, then,” Crane says, and he turns to go. “No need to accompany me, I can let myself back in.”

I keep my anger contained as he leaves and strides back to his laboratory. He was prepared to gas me if things hadn’t gone his way. How would I have fared? My years of training taught me to resist fear, but fighting the effects of Crane’s gas would be a challenge indeed.

But one thing at a time. I will tighten the security protocols on Crane’s lab, make sure his future movements are restricted. Unique challenge or no, I don’t need the distraction.

I return my attention to the Doctor. He remains in an upright position, though standing is clearly out of the question. I was going to make him wait a further two hours before putting him under and bringing him in for healing and nourishment. Instead, I opt for more fear gas.

Let’s see if I can’t nip the Doctor’s newfound strength in the bud.

 

“Let’s go over what we know,” the 6th Doctor mind-avatar said. “One...”

“He knows my exact anatomy,” the Doctor replied, “which is why his fear gas is so effective.”

“And the only way he could know that...?”

“Is if he’d kidnapped and studied me once before.”

“Yes,” the 6th Doctor said, and he began pacing in a circle around his older self. “And you can’t remember that incident...”

“Because he wiped my memory somehow.”

“Which suggests...?”

“He’ll do the same when he’s done with me now.”

“Correct. And that means...”

“He has a plan for me. And it most likely involves brainwashing.”

“All right, good,” the younger Doctor squatted before him. “Now, what can you do about it?”

“I don’t know!” the Doctor wailed. “I don’t... wait a moment...”

“Yes?”

“I might be able to work out when he took me before,” the Doctor said, and in his mind he rose to his feet. “Just before my seventh regeneration...”

“That business on Chamble, yes,” the 6th Doctor rose beside him. “That signal you intercepted...”

“My signal! My message!”

“The very same,” the 6th Doctor said. “And after your regeneration, and that bit of Master business, you worked out that code. What happened then?”

“I don’t remember.”

“And that suggests...”

“I followed the signal and crossed my own timeline!” the Doctor said. “He, the younger me, couldn’t retain the memories after the event. I’m... I’m coming to rescue me.”

“Indeed you are!”

“But...” the Doctor hesitated. “I don’t know where I am.”

“You didn’t have to!” his younger self reminded him. “You created an algorithm that made it impossible to trace the signal back to its origin unless the rest of the message had been decoded.”

“Oh, yeah,” the Doctor said. “I remember now! That was clever, wasn’t it?”

“Positively inspiring!”

“But hold on,” the Doctor said, “if I did work it out, which I did, and I am coming to rescue me, which I don’t remember, I’m taking my sweet time about it.”

“There must be complications we know nothing about. Trust yourself! You’re bloody clever. And it would be best if you prepared for your eventual arrival.”

“What if Please Sir breaks me before I get here?”

The Sixth Doctor sighed, wiped his brow.

“Well, that is a good question, isn’t it?” he said. “And, truthfully, there is very little we can...” He stopped, sniffed the air.

“I’m being gassed again,” the Doctor said.

“I’m afraid so,” the 6th Doctor said. “I doubt you’ll be able to maintain me, once it gets going.”

“He’s supposed to heal me first!”

“Yes, it’s annoying when these villainous types don’t play by the rules. Listen, Doctor, you’ve got to hang on. Stay strong! If you let him break you...”

The Sixth Doctor faded out. And a fresh set of nightmares stormed in.


End file.
